


It's three in the morning.

by HUNTERSHIPPING



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Depression, Sadstuck, Self-Harm, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 01:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19416085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HUNTERSHIPPING/pseuds/HUNTERSHIPPING
Summary: It's three in the morning and your in your friends bathrooms, with a razor blade in your left hand, and a tissue being pushed to your wrist with your right hand.   Nice.





	It's three in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Personal vent fic based off of last summer (2018) and also for venting purposes. Please excuse spelling errors.

It's three in the morning and your in your friend's bathrooms, with a shaving blade in your left hand, and a tissue being pushed to your wrist with your right hand. Nice. Real nice. Stoic kid Dave isn't actually the "coom" kid. You rolled your eyes. No one actually saw you as cool, they all thought you were annoying and just kept you around out of pity. You knew it.

You're not exactly sure why you had done it, John had been asleep for four hours now and you just couldn't get over the urge. You tried scratching at your arm, chewing your sleeve, even listening to music but nothing was able to salvage the need.

Either way you had ended up here. You felt dumb for not having an actual blade, and rather having to use a sjaving blade. You had tried to remove the triplet of blades from the shaving blade but it resulted in failure and only caused the anger in you to bubble up more.

The cuts were somewhat shallow and were in small groups of three. You had counted out fifteen cuts now. You weren't even thinking when you brought the razor down a sixth time to make eighteen cuts now. A heavy sigh fell from your mouth and you finally removed yourself from sitting on the closed toilet lid.

You grabbed the toilet paper and hastily ripped off two squares and ran them under the water. You pressed the drenched sheet to your wrist and watched the blood soak into the white, making it turn a vibrant red fading into pink do to the water washing the color out.

You knee that this probably wasnt the best way to wash them since some tiny bits of paper would probably still remain in the wounds but you didn't want to use a towel. How would that turn out? "Hey John sorry I ruined your towel with my stupid fucking emo decisions, now let's play mario kart!" Yeah right.

The water was extremely cold and you sucked in a bit of air through your teeth in a slight hiss of shock. You threw the wet paper into the trash bin next to you and grabbed some new squares to dry the water on your arm. You abandoned the paper in the trash once again and started washing the shaving razor to make sure nothing was left behind.

You sighed and pulled out your phone. Reluctantly you texted the only person you knew was awake. 

Dave: hey yo bro. Could you come get me?  
Dirk: hey wassup lil man? Of course.  
Dirk: what about Egbert though?  
Dave: he'll be fine. I can explain to him I just didn't feel good in the morning.  
Dirk: alright. If you say so. See you in 30.  
Dave: k

You huddled yourself in the corner of the living room with your blanket sloppily thrown around your shoulders waiting for either a knock or a text. Soon enough your phone buzzes and you check to see the text from your bro. You heaved yourself up and gathered everything in your arms and left. 

You met your brother in the driveway and three your stuff into the backseat before hopping into the passenger seat. 

"Everything alright little man?"

"Mhmm." You nod. "Just sick." You stare out the window as your bro takes off. You watch stars pass by in the sky as John's house disappears into the distance and you finally head home for the night.


End file.
